


Club Katsudon

by shadesofhades



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Cheating, Drug Abuse, Everyone is an unredeemable bastard, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fuzzy explaination of genderswap, Genderswap, Girl Yuri Plisetsky, Graphic description of violence against a child, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Yuri plisetsky, Hung JJ, If you don't offend someone you're not doing it right, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Masochism, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Multi, Murder, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, One-sided Mila/Yuri, One-sided Yuri/Viktor, Past Rape/Non-con, Power Imbalance, Prostitution, Rockstar! JJ, Rough Sex, Russian Mafia, Sadism, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Underage Drinking, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Yuuri katsuki is a kept man, body image issues, gypsy curses, mention of suicide, pain play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/pseuds/shadesofhades
Summary: Welcome to Club Katsudon: a gentlemen's club owed by Viktor Nikiforov -- a man who's rumored to have ties to the Russian mob and a place that, for a fee, you can have more than a dance with his girls.Meet Yuri: a teenager whose only focus in her miserable life is on her next high. Everything changes, however, when she joins the ranks of Club Katsudon and begins to unravel a mystery that has haunted her for years.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started to write this for the shitbang, but failed miserably. I thought I might have a better chance at finishing it if I posted in chapters.
> 
> I've never written an AU before. This was a lot of fun. I've also never written het porn before, so I'll just apologize for it now. Lol
> 
> Beta'd by Icicle and Annabeth. All remaining mistakes are mine.

“I hate girls!” Yuri shouted, his fist drawn back as he stared down at the girl curling herself into a ball at his feet, clearly terrified -- the girl who only minutes ago had announced that she liked him and kissed him suddenly. This wasn’t the right reaction, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, the words forcing themselves from his throat without pause for logic or shame.

“Girls are soft and stupid and weak!” _And they die_ , Yuri added silently, his eyes wide as he relived the memory of his mother’s last breath -- of the way her cold eyes had stared at him as death claimed her.

“Stay away from me!” he yelled, fist driving itself into her face -- a face that might have been pretty, before his fist connected with her nose, and again with her mouth. He could feel the crunch of broken bone under his knuckles, but he couldn’t stop, all his anger coming to the surface over and over again as he thought about this stupid girl’s wide eyes staring at him the same way his mother’s had as her blood flowed between his fingers and her body became cold. She had no idea, no idea why he was hurting her, but he couldn’t stop.

Grandpa had said maybe one day he’d understand, that one day he would forgive his mother for what she did. He did understand, but it didn’t stop the anger that overcame him.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he screamed over and over again, his fingers bloody and she wasn't crying anymore and Yuri’s afraid to know why, why she stopped. But he couldn’t stop, just kept hitting her until he could feel hands grip his arms too hard and lift him away.

She was in intensive care for a week and would probably face a lifetime of pain and surgery -- but Yuri’s glad she didn’t die like his mother did. He hadn’t meant it, any of it, but he had lost it and it had taken three teachers to hold him down, pressing him bodily to the floor before he had stopping swinging his fists, before he had come out of the fog. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her but the monster inside him didn’t care about intentions or feelings.

Grandpa had understood when he saw the picture of her before -- before Yuri had damaged her beyond belief -- with her wide green eyes and wide smile that looked so much like the mother he remembered. But what Yuri had done...

“What were you thinking, Yurochka?” his grandpa had asked, leaning over him. “You’ve been expelled from school. I know it’s only been a few months since you came here and you are young, but Yuri...”

There was disappointment, and that hurts almost more than the knowledge of what he did to that girl.

“She was weak, Grandpa.” Yuri had never felt so small in his life; he couldn’t stop the hot tears that washed the dirt and sweat from his face -- tears that had nothing to do with the little girl clinging onto life in a hospital bed. “Why are they all so weak?”

And there was nothing more to say because it already had been said over and over again since his mother’s death, since he had come to America and was forced to live in a strange land with a man he had never really known.

The storm had all but calmed a month later when Yuri remembered her words, so casual the first day they met: “My mother was a gypsy before she married my dad. She said grandma taught her lots of curses when she was my age.”

His mother had told him to stay away from the gypsies in the park as a child, back in Moscow -- back when his mother had been alive and beautiful and not yet a coward -- and he hadn’t listened. She had warned of danger, warned him that they weren’t people to trust, but he had never been a very obedient child and maybe that's why she had...

His mother had been right then -- they had been his friends right up until the moment that they had taken his money and left town.

This time he had hurt one of their own -- if that was how they treated their friends he didn’t know how they would treat their enemies.

Even at twelve years old he couldn’t disillusion himself into thinking that everything would be okay.

And it wasn’t.


	2. Chapter One: Yuri

Yuri pulled his hood -- no, it was hers now, whether she wanted it to be or not -- further around her face and tried not to draw attention to herself as she opened the doors and went inside; the sound hit her immediately, a rhythmic beat that pounded in her ears.

She had heard about this place from Popovich last week -- it was all he had talked about after she had sucked his dick and he had ponied up the drugs she wanted. Normally, she didn’t stick around to listen to him talk, but she was feeling a little desperate for a high and couldn’t wait until she was on her own filth-ridden mattress to shoot up. She wished she couldn’t remember the after, couldn’t remember the ice-hearted girl he had talked about breaking his heart while he held her like they were fucking lovers and not just drug dealer and addict -- but Yuri had long since accused him of cheating her and it only showed that she had been right. Fuck -- she needed to find a new dealer just as soon as she had some money in her pocket.

This place had a lot of reputations and most of them weren’t good, but there was only one she really cared about and that was that their owner would hire any girl that he thought could make him money, and didn’t much care whether or not they could prove they were eighteen.

Strange thing was that the police didn’t seem to care that half his girls probably were not yet eighteen — they left him alone; although, given that it was rumored the mob had the local pigs on the payroll and that the owner of this joint was their don, it probably wasn’t such a surprise. Yuri wasn’t worried about reputations or her life -- hadn’t been since she had taken to the streets two years ago.

This wasn’t some run down sleazy place like a lot of strip places she knew of; this place had a certain class to it and she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so out of place with her matted hair and dirt streaked skin. Washing had never taken much priority in her life after the drugs had taken hold, but now she wished it had, wished she had a place with running water where she could have cleaned up a little.

But it was too late to second guess herself now, and her hoodie was black and still looked fairly clean. Maybe the owner wouldn't care that she hadn't bathed in over a month; it's not like she wasn't pretty under all the grime. Maybe he'd see that she had potential.

Squaring her shoulders she walked towards the bar and tried to project confidence. She didn't get far, however, before a blond man stepped in front of her and grabbed the loose fabric at the nape of her neck.

_Shit._

"Sorry, kid, but you're a little too young for this place. Why don't you try the milk bar down the street?" He had a thick accent that she couldn't place, but mainly she couldn't help but notice how green his eyes were and how long his eyelashes were. He was gorgeous -- the type of guy that probably didn't need any help getting a girl, for sure.

"I'm not a kid," she protested as she angrily stared up at him. 

He immediately let go of her, a smile appearing on his lips. 

"Ah. You're a woman," he said, surprised. "And Russian. Interesting."

She didn't know why that of all things was interesting, but whatever. Meeting the bouncer had saved her some trouble from trying to track down what she wanted: the person in charge.

"I'm here about a job," she told him, puffing out her chest and standing to her full height, trying to look like she was somehow important or belonged here. She didn't, not by a long shot, but her grandpa had always told her that confidence could get her anything she wanted in life, and he had always given her great advice in the two years she had lived with him in America. 

She tried not to think too much about him -- the memory of his loss still extremely painful for so many reasons.

"Mmm--" The blond man gave her a long look over before he cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know how pleased Viktor will be if I bring him a street rat. But you've certainly got guts, walking into this place."

"Show me this Viktor," Yuri demanded. "It will be my problem, not yours, if he tells me no."

The man stared at her for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. 

"Sure. You're certainly not the worst thing I've brought him."

Yuri followed him, her eyes drawn instantly to the stage after they ducked through a pair of red velvet curtains and into the main room. The girl on stage wasn't of the normal class of stripper she had seen in movies and on TV -- this girl was beautiful, with the grace of a real dancer and Yuri couldn't take her eyes off the girl, watching her dip down low on the stage, legs spread as she gave the men down front a show, then slid upwards in one smooth motion. Even the men themselves, seated all around the stage, weren't what she had expected -- most reeked of money and power, but even those who didn't had a certain appeal. This place wasn't just a classy upscale joint -- it was an exclusive club for the rich and beautiful.

"Quite a dancer, huh?" the blond man asked loudly, when he noticed Yuri's eyes had strayed to the girl on stage. Even though he practically yelled it, Yuri had to strain to hear him over the loud thumps of the music. "Her name's Mila. She was a Russian ballerina before she blew out her knee. The men can't ever get enough of her."

"She's Russian?" Yuri asked, startled by the revelation. 

"Oh, yes. One of many. The boss has a bit of a weakness for pretty Russians with sob stories."

Mila slid up the pole in the center of the stage, making it look easy as she turned herself upside down and did the splits, her red hair reflecting beautifully in the highly shined black stage. Yuri thought this would be easy, but she was starting to doubt herself now. Even if she managed to talk her way into a job _that_ was something she wasn’t sure she could do. She had thought that trying to dance sexy while you took your clothes off was all there was to it. Sure, she wasn't exactly well practiced at either, but she had some rhythm and taking her clothes off in front of strangers was something that had long since stopped bothering her -- fucking people for drugs did that to a girl. She had long since realized that her body could give her what she wanted and it wasn't like she had any integrity left to protect -- _that_ had long since been taken from her.

This weak body was supposed to be her curse, and in many ways it was, but at least she could use it as a bargaining chip now; being a pretty boy on the streets didn't give you the same opportunities as that of a young girl and she tried to use it to her advantage the best she could.

But this place wasn't at all what she thought it would be -- maybe this was one door her body couldn't open.

"This way," the man yelled, and it took Yuri a moment to realize exactly what it was he had said before he disappeared through a black door near the bar. Yuri scrambled in after him and let the door slam behind her, her ears feeling numb for a moment as the music was abruptly cut off by the closing of the door.

Just down the hall, the blond man stood next to another door, and Yuri only had a moment to think about how big this place must be as she stared down the hallway at the row of doors, before he knocked on the door and she could make out a voice answering.

"Go ahead," the man said as he gestured towards to door. Yuri was cautious, but took her hood down, hoping her beauty would shine through the grime on her skin.

Steeling her nerves, she took a big breath and pushed the door open.

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she entered the room, but given that nothing about this place was what she had expected, she shouldn't have been surprised by the man sitting behind the large wooden desk. He didn’t look up from his paperwork, but she didn’t need him to look her in the eyes to realize he was beautiful -- well beyond anything she had seen before, platinum blond hair falling over his young face, and although she couldn't get a good look at his eyes, she could see his blond eyelashes were impossibly long, fanning out against his cheeks.

"What is it, Chris?" he asked with a thick Russian accent, and now the fact that Russians were a soft spot for him made so much more sense.

Her heart thudded in her chest and it took her a moment to find her tongue, suddenly ashamed that this man would see her for what she really was -- a damaged street punk without any worth.

Finally, she mustered her courage, thankful that her voice didn’t betray her when she said, "I'm here about a job."

His head shot up, a look of surprise on his face when he saw her, his wide eyes the color of the open ocean and only serving to make him more painfully beautiful. Something in her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she stared at him, but she swallowed down the strange feeling, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Damn it, Chris." He sighed in the direction of the door before he turned his attention towards her, eyes hard as he took her in. She tried not to feel self-conscious under his gaze, but her fingers twitched and her line of sight slid downwards towards the desktop in front of her, cluttered with papers and a photograph of an overweight Asian guy that would probably be passably good looking if he lost fifty pounds. 

“You want a job,” he said after a moment and Yuri forced her eyes upwards to meet his, challenging him. He didn’t seem particularly fazed by her stare. 

“Yes,” she answered in Russian, and she was pretty sure she didn’t imagine the slightest hint of a smile at that.

“What makes you think I'm hiring?” he asked back in Russian as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arm across his chest staring at her. “And why should I hire you?”

Yuri frowned. “Places like this are always hiring. Your customers aren't going to come back if you don't surprise them.”

“And is that what you'll do? Surprise my customers? Keep them coming back?” Viktor asked, eyebrow quirked upwards.

“I didn't realize there would be an extensive interview for a job that involved taking my clothes off!” Yuri snapped, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but failing, to which Viktor gave an unamused stare.

“That should have been obvious. Haven't you ever been on a date?” His lips curled upwards at his own joke. 

Yuri gritted her teeth and tried not to let the question bother her -- she was no blushing virgin, but she _hadn't_ been on a date before. The thought stung a little -- plenty of guys had wanted her for her body, but no one had ever really cared about her beyond that. The reminder of such things made her hackles rise against her will. She really hoped she wasn't sneering at him.

As if sensing her anger starting to boil over, Viktor offered her a smile. “Lighten up, I only kid.”

The man might be gorgeous, but he was also tedious as fuck, and she often found her tolerance for such people lacking. He was not an exception. 

“I can dance and I'm eighteen,” Yuri barked out. “What else do you really need to know? It’s not like my _soul_ is what those horny old men are here for.”

Viktor smiled, kind and calm, and Yuri reminded herself to reel it in. She had promised to be on her best behavior until she had the job and she had already failed. 

“But your soul is what _I_ require,” he said, eyes squinting up as he smiled at her. “While my girls work here their bodies belong to me and only me. That a problem?”

Yuri shrugged. It wasn’t like she had much choice -- not like her body had belonged to her alone for a few years now, and she hardly thought it was worth protecting.

“Of course not. My body is literally your business,” Yuri said, and felt a little hopeful that perhaps this was Viktor’s way of saying she had the job. That hope was immediately deflated when Viktor said, 

“I also require my girls to take care of their appearance. Blondes usually do well and I'm sure you're quite pretty under that dirt, but I’m not interested in a new project right now.”

It was like a knife to the gut. Yuri scowled, ashamed that it had come to this, but she couldn't leave here. She needed the money; she was already itching under her skin and grinding her teeth with withdrawal. The man at the door had said Viktor was a sucker for a Russian with a sad story, and she was pretty sure it didn't get much worse than hers.

“ _Please_ ,” she begged. “I've got no one left -- nowhere to go.” She wondered if she could muster tears to go with the words but none came. She had long since lost the ability to cry about her life -- it had been replaced by anger years ago -- but it clearly wasn't needed. 

Viktor’s face softened slightly, just enough for Yuri to realize that she had her foot in the door. 

“I haven't eaten in two days. I’ll do anything. Please, I--” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and let her voice break. She might not be able to produce tears, but she had always been great at playing a part; although, it helped that it wasn’t a lie, and her stomach had chosen the perfect time to rumble.

Viktor stood up and handed her a tissue. “It's okay, Miss...?” 

“Yuri,” she told him softly, dabbing at her dry eyes. “Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Yuri?” Viktor asked, a strange look flitting across before he looked down at the photo of the fat Asian guy on his desk, a wistful expression on his face. He didn't say anything for a moment, and Yuri was unsure of what that could mean. Maybe her name somehow meant something to him?

When he spoke again, there was a softness to his voice that wasn't there before and a kindness twinkling in his beautiful eyes. “Yuri is such an unusual name for a girl, is it not?”

Yuri hoped she wasn't grimacing at that. She hadn't met many Russians since the change so her name had never really been a problem. Most Americans didn't know Yuri wasn't a girl's name and although Georgi was Russian, Yuri was pretty sure he was way too fucking high to notice the girl he sometimes fucked had a boy’s name.

“My mom picked the name before I was born. She expected a boy.” She dabbed her eyes again with the tissue and tried her hardest to sound nonchalant about it, like she got this question a lot. It was true that her mother had picked the name before her birth -- it made stretching the truth much easier.

“Mmm,” Viktor hummed to himself, raising his finger to his lips as he appraised her again, this time with a twinkle in his eyes. “You do have a certain appeal to you, don't you?”

Yuri wasn't sure if she should be hopeful, but something inside her warmed at his expression.

He didn't give her an affirmative to that feeling, instead came around his desk, pressing a hand against his chest to keep his tie from escaping from his suit jacket as he leaned over, eyes searching for something as he went.

“Chris?” he asked loudly, as he neared the door. 

The blond guy poked his head in curiously. “How’d it go?”

Viktor picked up a sheet of paper and passed it to Yuri, who took it cautiously. 

“What's this?” she asked.

“A contract. Sign it,” Viktor said before he turned to address Chris. “Take her to see Minako. She’ll have her work cut out for her, but don't let her give you any shit for making her work.”

“So I'm hired?” she asked, confused.

Viktor offered her a pen and she took it cautiously.

“You only need to sign over your soul to me and the job is yours,” Viktor told her with a small smile.

She wondered briefly if those words should give her pause, but she really didn't have anything left to lose now, right? 

\--------

Minako turned out to be a pretty Asian lady, who obviously overindulged in liquor far too often. Her face was flushed when Chris and Yuri entered her office, and Yuri wasn’t all that surprised that her words slurred when she said,

“Chris, why can't Viktor ever come see me himself?” There was a whine to her voice, but Chris didn't pay it any mind.

“You know he's too busy, Minako,” he told her easily, like they had this conversation a lot. “This place doesn't run itself, you know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He always has time for everyone else. Why not me?”

Chris patted her on the back, trying to console her. It really didn't help. She just threw his hand off her and glared at him. 

“Tell Viktor if he's going to bring me another street urchin he better start bringing them here himself.” She glared daggers at Yuri now, taking a swig of her bottle before she slammed it down on the table beside her chair. “Damn it, Viktor!” she yelled up towards the ceiling. “You could at least let me see your beautiful face once in awhile. It's the least you could do after all the work I do for you.”

Chris offered Yuri a smile as Minako mumbled to herself about being a fairy godmother and the injustices she faced. 

“Give her a few minutes to sober up, maybe?” Chris offered. “Or at least let her rant for a minute longer. Sometimes she just needs a moment to calm down.”

“I don't think a few minutes will be much help,” Yuri commented. “What do I need her for, anyway? Looks like she's just some drunk to me.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “She gets like this sometimes, but once she calms down, I promise you she works magic. You won't recognize yourself when she's done.”

“When she's done what?” Yuri asked, starting to have some doubts.

“She’s Viktor's fixer. Most girls that come in here are unrefined and have never danced before. Minako is the one who makes them into stars. She can tell you the ropes and show you to your room.”

“My room?”

Chris shrugged. “Sure. You don't think Viktor would just send you back out to the streets after you signed his contract, do you?”

“I hadn't thought about anything beyond getting hired,” Yuri said honestly, something churning in her stomach as she thought about never having to go back to her filthy mattress.

“What impossible task has that man brought me this time?” Minako interrupted with a defeated sigh, sounding much more sober and less angry than moments before. 

“Her name is Yuri,” Chris told her. “Viktor wants her polished and ready by next week.”

“I'll make no promises,” she said with a deep frown, her eyes raking over Yuri.

“Please, Minako,” Chris said as he gripped her hand and pulled it to his chest, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he looked into her eyes. “I know you can do this.”

Minako all but melted beneath his flattery, and Yuri wasn't sure she could blame her, her own heart beating just a little faster at that smile.

“Fine,” she mumbled, looking quickly away from his smiling face before she ripped her hand from his.

“Merci,” Chris told her with a wink before he disappeared back through the door, leaving Yuri alone with Minako’s scrutiny.

Her cheeks were still flushed as she stared Yuri down, but Yuri didn't think it was all alcohol making her face hot anymore, and found herself wondering if Minako lusted after Viktor the same way she so obviously lusted after Chris.

“Take off your clothes,” she muttered after a moment.

“What?” Yuri snapped back. Obviously she must have heard wrong.

“I said, ‘take off your clothes’,” Minako repeated, louder and more clear this time. She still had a slight slur, but she was all business now. “If you can't do it in front of me, do you really think you can do it in front of a crowd of horny men?”

She had a point, Yuri conceded, her fingers shaking as she reached for the zipper on her hoodie.

“Just take it off,” she told Yuri, annoyed. “Trust me, girl. I've seen it all before.”

That was not as comforting as she seemed to think it would be. Yuri hadn’t really ever been shy about her body, probably partly because being a girl had always seemed so foreign and wrong to her that it was easy to feel like she was looking at someone else -- but Minako’s stare had her nervous. She had looked at this body a million times since she had become a girl and although she had never really had a point of reference (it wasn’t like she spent time looking at other naked girls), it didn't seem like anything was wrong with her. At least, none of the guys she had fucked in the last two years had complained; although, most of them had been blitzed out of their fucking minds at the time.

She dropped her sweatshirt to the ground before she worked on pulling her t-shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra -- she didn't really see the point when her tits were so small. Popovich had always seemed to like that about her -- something about her breasts fitting perfectly in his hands -- so she had never really given much thought to the fact that maybe they were _too_ small before now.

If Minako had an opinion on breast size, she kept it to herself, silently watching as Yuri undid her belt and unbuttoned her jeans. They fell easily down her hips, pooling at her feet, caught only by her shoes. She kicked out of the leopard print sneakers easily, her bare feet touching the cold ground as she stepped out of her pants. She hadn't worn underwear for months now -- there was no point; who cared about wearing clean panties when you couldn't even bathe? She knew she stunk and that her pubic hair was just as matted as the hair on her head, but it was clearly obvious that Yuri had been living on the streets for awhile.

Minako looked entirely unimpressed with her. 

“He sends a fucking junkie,” she muttered to herself, picking the bottle of booze back up from the table and taking a swig. “Viktor has no respect for me at all, does he? I bet Lilia never had to deal with this.”

Yuri was sure she wasn't supposed to answer that, so she remained quiet, her fingers self-consciously tracing the marks on the inside of her elbow. She wondered if she should just put her clothes back on and leave Minako to her ramblings for a while, but she never got a chance because the movement of her hand seemed to attract her attention.

“What are you, fourteen? Fifteen? Did Viktor even look at you before he sent you to me?”

“I’m eighteen,” Yuri said, defiantly, puffing out her chest.

Minako didn’t seem to care about her protests.

“You've got no tits to speak of, but at least the carpet matches the drapes,” she said as she circled Yuri, her eyes taking in every part of her. “You've been on the streets awhile, but you haven't been a junkie for long, probably just a few months -- that's good.”

Yuri gritted her teeth. “How did you know it's only been a few months?”

Minako didn't answer for a long moment, instead returning to the booze table to pull out a pack of cigarettes. She beat the pack against her hand a few times before she ripped the foil and pulled out stick. She lit it and took a long drag before she finally turned her attention back to Yuri.

“You're too healthy looking for a _real_ junkie,” she said. Yuri didn't think she was all that healthy looking, but she didn't protest. 

“Bet that's why you came here, isn't it? Looking for money for your next fix?”

She stayed silent.

“It will have to stop,” she said simply, like it was the easiest fucking thing in the world to do. “Viktor would never let one of his girls go out like that. They might let you get away with that downtown, but this is Club Katsudon. We cater to a higher class of clientele.”

Yuri was vibrating with anger now. “Like it's so fucking easy to just give it up?” she shouted.

Minako didn't seem fazed by the outburst. “There's other things that don't leave marks that still mask the pain. Why do you think I drink?”

She was honestly flabbergasted by that. Was she really suggesting that maybe Yuri should just switch to a new drug? Was it really that easy to do? To find something that gave her the same high that she craved without the forbidding needles? They didn't bother her as much anymore, but the idea of a simpler way to get high definitely agreed with her.

Minako circled her again, and Yuri wondered if this is what it felt like to be surrounded by hungry sharks miles from shore.

“Are you a virgin?” she asked after a moment, her hand coming out to tilt Yuri’s face up towards hers. She quickly answered her own question with a, “Probably not. Pretty virgins don't usually last long on the streets. Besides, your blood is probably already dirty from being an addict -- I'll have to get you tested.”

“I wasn't a virgin before I was on the streets,” she spat back, her jaw beginning to hurt where Minako was holding on to it. It wasn't strictly true -- she was pretty sure losing your virginity was strictly a consensual thing, but it hardly mattered. She had been damaged goods before she had slept in her first gutter or ate out of her first dumpster.

Yuri wondered if there would be bruises left on her jaw later, and Minako, as if having the same thought, let go, allowing Yuri to turn away from her.

Minako wasn't done with her questions though, her hands sliding down to grip Yuri's ass.

“Are you a virgin back here?” Minako asked, her fingers slipping between Yuri's ass cheeks. She went up on the balls of her feet to avoid Minako’s probing fingers.

“What the hell are you doing, you hag?” Yuri shouted in surprise “What the fuck does it matter if I've been fucked before? No one's going to care when I'm stripping.”

“Christ,” Minako said with a sigh. “You didn't read that contract you signed, did you?”

“Of course not!”

“The strip show is just that: a show. No one's going to bid on a cow they can't see. They want to know that they're getting quality meat.”

“Who the hell you callin’ a cow?”

“Relax. It's just an analogy.”

“What's an analogy?” she asked, the English word stumping her.

Minako ignored her. “The girls go and do their dances so that the client can see what they're paying to fuck later. It's like going to the farm and picking out your own Thanksgiving turkey.”

What was with this lady and food?

“You mean they're prostitutes?” The wind was sort of taken from her sails and she could feel herself deflate. Taking her clothes off was one thing, but this was asking so much more. That was what Viktor had meant when he said she was signing over her soul.

“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but you've been misled. Did you really think Viktor was being generous when he gave you a room? That's where you'll meet your clients.” Minako blew out a long line of smoke and Yuri just stared at her, unsure what she was supposed to think. 

“Look, don't feel so bad. Viktor may be a bastard that cons girls into turning tricks for him, but he does compensate them well. This life isn't as bad as it could be. Play your cards right and some nice john might even make you his exclusive.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Yuri all but growled.

Minako just changed the subject. “I'll get you some toys to play with. It will make it a lot easier for you when someone wants anal.”

\----------

There was sweat dripping into her eyes, and she knew it was going to make her mascara run, and Yuri tried to blinked it away, careful not to smear her eye makeup as her heels clicked against the tiled floor of the hallway. 

She had never worn makeup before she came here and the feeling was still new, like so many others. Chris had not lied when he said that should wouldn't recognize herself when Minako was done with her. After she had been fed, washed and waxed -- the feeling of her newly waxed privates rubbing against her underwear was a feeling that she would probably never get used to -- she had already felt like a whole new person, but then Minako had broken out her makeup kit and brought her new clothes. She had always heard that clothes didn't make a man, but after looking at herself in the mirror, she was beginning to think whoever said that was full of shit.

But looking the part and playing the part were two separate things. She had never worn heels before -- after she had become a girl, Grandpa had insisted that she need not change herself just because of her gender, so it was always the same sneakers she had worn as a boy, the same jeans and t-shirts -- but now not only did she have to learn how to walk in them, she had to learn how to _dance_. 

She ached everywhere. Going into withdrawal had been bad enough, with Minako locking her in her room to suffer it alone -- although she had fed Yuri plenty of alcohol to numb the pain, it had been a poor substitute to the high she still craved -- but then she had to learn to dance and bend her body in such unnatural ways. She understood now why athletes took ice baths after a long work out, but the best Minako could do was a jar of IcyHot. It hadn't helped, and Minako hadn't taken any pity on her, making her sweat through the pain seizing her muscles and the way her chest felt so heavy she thought she would die. The worst part was that she had never stopped thinking about the drugs, even as she ran through dance routine after dance routine.

Minako had been impressed with her flexibility and Yuri was pretty sure that she was enjoying directing Yuri into impossible poses on purpose, trying to make her dancing as dynamic as possible. Yuri honestly had no idea that dancing would be so intense or that Viktor would be insistent that it be so _professional_.

At least right now, dancing was _all_ she had to do. They were still waiting on Yuri’s test results and Minako had decided anyway that she wasn't ready to entertain clients yet -- partly because she claimed Yuri had an attitude problem (which was probably true), and partly because Yuri had been too weirded out to use the toys Minako had brought her more than once and Minako insisted that wasn't enough. Yuri didn't want to argue, because who would?

She had never actually masturbated before -- not as a girl at least. She had been young when she had changed, barely understanding what her body was doing as a boy, and then she was suddenly a girl with new parts to learn to live with and understand. She had explored the new parts a few times, but that was all it had been: curiosity at her new body. She had never done it to get off before and it was a new experience.

Maybe she would have felt less weird about the whole thing if Minako hadn't been standing over her the whole time, insisting that she show her how to use them. It was only at Yuri’s promise to try them out -- with notes on how each one felt -- that she was able to be alone.

Thing is, sex had always been a tool to her before -- a way to get food, a way to get shelter, a way to get drugs -- it had never been about pleasure before. She was half-convinced that all the things she heard about sex were a lie; that people didn't really do it for fun. But she had swallowed down her doubts and stripped down to nothing, trying to imagine someone she might _want_ to actually fuck her, not just because she needed something that they had, but just based on pure physical lust.

She had bit her lip almost raw as she fucked her own ass with the biggest of the toys provided, her thoughts circling around Viktor the whole time, wondering what his face might look like twisted up in pleasure, or better yet, what he looked like as he was coming. Even after everything he had done, how he had tricked her, the idea of his hard cock fucking her had gotten her so excited she couldn't stop herself from crying out with her face buried in her pillow, knowing full well that Minako was likely on the other side of her door listening.

She felt a blush hot across her face as she thought about what she had done. She had never had an orgasm as a girl before that night, but the idea of Viktor pounding her ass had gotten her so worked up she had barely touched her clit before she was shaking with pleasure. She had no idea that anal could be so amazing.

It had been less amazing later though, when Minako had sat her down and asked her if she knew how to put on a condom and the only thing she could concentrate on was the ache in her backside. Maybe she had been a little overzealous in her first time, but she had always been an all or nothing sort of person.

“Hey, new girl,” someone said to her left, startling her out of her shameful thoughts.

Yuri recognized the other girl right away as the one she had seen when she first came to the club: the Russian Ballerina. She couldn't remember the girl’s name, but she was offering Yuri a wide smile so she supposed it didn't hurt to at least acknowledge her.

“It's Yuri,” she offered softly, her lips twitching into a what she hoped was a friendly smile, but was sure was more like a grimace. She hadn't had much to smile about in her life and it had grown rusty from disuse.

“Oh,” she said, her painted lips forming a perfect “o” as she cocked her head to the side, studying her. “But isn't Yuri strictly a boy's name?”

Yuri shrugged, wondering how many times she would be asked this question. Minako had said that there were quite a few Russians here and Yuri was sure it wouldn't take long for her to encounter most of them.

“My parents wanted a boy,” she finally said. It was a lie -- her mother had never wanted a child at all, and Yuri wasn't sure about her father since she had never actually met him, but given the circumstances of her birth, she wasn't inclined to think that he would care that Yuri existed as a boy or girl.

“It doesn't matter,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I'm just happy to see some fresh blood around this place, especially in someone so _cute_.” She gave Yuri an appraising look before she continued, obviously missing Yuri’s frown. “You're so tiny and adorable! Like a little kitten.”

“I'm no kitten!” she snarled. She had wanted to be cordial with the other girls, but this one was already wearing on her nerves.

“Oh, kitten has teeth,” she said, smile growing wider. “The feisty ones usually do well here.”

Yuri was about to respond when a door opened near by and another girl peeked her head out at them. She was all tan skin and dark hair, and Yuri immediately thought that with those wide violet eyes, if she wasn't working here, she could have easily been a model.

“Oh! Mila, it's you,” she said with a warm smile. Her accent was just as lovely as the rest of her, and Yuri found herself a little jealous that her own voice had the tendency to be so harsh, although the roughness of her native tongue didn't do her any favors. 

“I thought maybe Minako was patrolling the halls,” she continued with a shudder.

“Nope,” Mila answered. “She passed out in her room about half an hour ago. I thought maybe we could go see Mickey, if you're not entertaining at the moment.”

“Emil was just getting dressed, but I'm sure he can find his own way out,” she answered as she stepped out of her room and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Who's Mickey?” Yuri asked. She eyed the girl curiously, who eyed Yuri right back.

“Who's this?” she asked Mila, with caution obvious in her voice. 

“This is Yuri, our newest addition to Club Katsudon! Darling, isn't she?” Mila said as she draped her arm around Yuri’s shoulders like they were best friends or something. Yuri shrugged her arm off none too gently.

“Don't touch me, you hag,” Yuri snapped.

Mila continued like nothing happened, her voice pleasant as she went on with her introductions.

“Yuri, this is Sara.”

“I don't know if darling is the word I would use,” Sara commented as she gave Yuri a lingering stare.

Well, fine. Fuck her then if she didn’t want to be friends. Yuri had been on her own this long, she hardly needed friends now.

“How old are you, Yuri?” she questioned after a moment, and Yuri realized she may have gotten the wrong impression. “Viktor keeps finding them younger and younger, huh?”

“I'm eighteen.”

“No way,” Sara said with a shake of her head. “You've got to be about thirteen.” 

“I'm only eighteen, just turned,” Mila volunteered. “And I've been here about two years. Trust me, those guys out there don't care that you're not legal.” Mila motioned towards the stage where Yuri had been coming from. “Hell, some of them get off on the fact that you're not.”

“I'm fifteen,” Yuri confessed after a moment. It felt strange to have the secret out there, but it was a relief at the same time.

“You're so young,” Mila said, sounding sad.

Yuri frowned at her.

“You're only three years older than me.”

“Yeah, but three years in this place is like a lifetime out there,” Sara said quietly, and Mila just nodded her agreement.

\--------

She got the rundown on Sara as they were walking towards the main lobby where apparently Mickey was a bartender. Viktor didn’t approve of his girls having relationships that weren’t with paying customers, so Sara and Mickey had been trying to sneak moments alone together since the two of them started there a few years ago. Yuri didn't understand why anyone would want to have a real relationship with a whore, but she didn’t make her opinion known -- after all, it wasn’t like she really understood any relationships anyway.

“What would happen if Viktor found out?” she asked curiously.

Sara and Mila exchanged a dark look. 

“Anya found out firsthand last month,” Mila said with a grimace. 

_Anya_. Yuri couldn't help but think she'd heard that name before, but she couldn't place where.

“I told her fucking that tweaker was a bad idea, but she didn't care. Before she…” Mila paused as if trying to find the word she wanted. “Before she left here she didn't care about anything anymore. I think she was too fucking high and numb from it all at the end to even understand what she was doing.”

“She had been here the longest out of all of us, even before Viktor and Minako,” Sara whispered and Yuri wondered why they were both being so solemn about it. So Viktor must have thrown her out, so what? Some girls might prefer being on the streets than being prostituted out to any man with a dollar and an interest.

“That's why Mickey and I need to be careful.”

Yuri didn't really have anything to say to that, so she kept quiet as they reached the bar and slid onto stools out front. 

It was a new experience, sitting at a bar. She didn't have enough time to process her thoughts beyond that before a young man dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and black slacks showed up, a glass and a white towel in his hands.

This must be Mickey, she thought right away, struck by his tan skin and dark violet eyes that looked so much like Sara’s. Despite the masculine shape of his face and the wide width of his shoulders Yuri had no problem thinking of him as beautiful just like Sara, but looks were the only similarity these two shared. 

“You're new,” he said quietly with a glower.

“Mickey,” Sara chided him. “Be nice.”

He only frowned harder.

“What do you want?” Mickey asked after a moment, gesturing to the bottles behind him.

Yuri wasn't sure. She hadn't had much experience with alcohol beyond what Minako had force-fed her during her withdrawal. She wasn't sure what she liked.

“Vodka on the rocks for us,” Mila said, motioning between her and Yuri as if sensing her hesitation. 

“Of course,” Mickey said, looking unimpressed as he reached for a bottle of clear liquor from the top shelf behind him. “It's always vodka with you Russians.”

“Better than the sour grapes you Italians insist on drinking,” Mila commented as she reached for the glass in front of her and took a long drink.

Yuri reached for her own glass and took a big drink, only to have it spill back out her mouth as she choked on the liquid that seem to burn her throat.

Mila patted her on the back, and Mickey just ignored her, turning towards Sara.

“Emil again?” he asked.

“Jealous?” Sara asked with a smile. Mickey didn't answer, but with the way his cheeks colored, Yuri supposed he didn't need to.

Mickey didn't meet her eyes when he spoke again.

“I wish you would tell him no.”

“Mickey, you know I can't,” Sara answered, reaching out to grip Mickey's hand in hers. “Besides, he never mistreats me. Would you rather have me sleep with someone that would treat me cruelly?”

“Of course not!” Mickey said with a horrified expression.

“Come on,” Sara said gently, pulling at his hand. “Leave them the bottle. No one will miss you for a few minutes.”

Yuri watched the two of them go, silently making a second attempt at her drink -- sipping this time -- it was still rough going down, but at least slowly she could tolerate it.

“Those two aren't fooling anyone,” Mila told Yuri when the two were out of earshot.

“You mean the fact that they're fucking?” Yuri asked, taking another drink, a little bigger this time.

“No,” Mila said with a shake of her head. “Well, that too. But I mean that they're twins.”

Yuri sprayed vodka all over the bar top.

“What?” she asked with a cough.

Mila opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by a calm Russian voice that said,

“If you're going to waste it, perhaps best not to drink it at all.”

Yuri wiped her chin and turned around on the bar stool, not prepared to meet the twinkling eyes of Viktor. 

Immediately, she felt her face go red as she thought about what she had done while imagining that face.

“No clients today, Mila?” Viktor asked casually like they were talking about the weather and not about whether or not Mila had fucked anyone today.

“Just got done,” Mila told him. “Poor guy didn't even get what he paid for before he blew his load. I thought I'd come out and try to bait someone else.”

Viktor didn't look too convinced. 

“Maybe you could find a new man faster if you spent less time on the girls,” he told her with a nod towards Yuri. She was pretty sure there was supposed to be some sort of significance in that, but whatever it was went over her head.

“Get off my back, Viktor,” Mila said with with a scowl. “Someone has to show the new girl the ropes.”

“Oh, yes. Yuri,” Viktor commented, looking like he just noticed she was sitting there. He reached out to cup her cheek, the tip of his thumb brushed her lips softly and Yuri really thought for a moment that she would die of embarrassment.

“Minako did a good job. I hardly recognized you. I can already tell you'll be popular around here.”

His attention was fleeting and Yuri was glad for that, her body so hot she wondered if she might spontaneously combust if he didn't stop touching her soon.

“Get back to work, Mila,” Viktor chastised her. “You know what happens to girls who refuse service.”

As soon as Viktor’s back was turned, Mila reached for the bottle of vodka, opened it and took a long swig.

“What a bastard,” she muttered to herself before she turned her attention back to Yuri.

Yuri wondered if it was obvious what she was thinking about. It must be, because Mila grinned at her with a leer.

“It will never happen, you know.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Yuri said, trying her best to sound annoyed and not completely mortified at being found out.

“Viktor will never be interested in you,” Mila told her with a little laugh.

“I know,” Yuri said, looking down at herself. She had no boobs -- even the push-up bra Minako had given to her couldn't change that fact -- she had no hips, none of the curves that attracted gorgeous men like Viktor. “I'm not worth looking at twice.”

“Oh no,” Mila said with a wave of her hand, her eyes passing approvingly over Yuri's body, “you're _fine_ , trust me. It's just that Viktor’s married.”

Yuri stared at her dumbly. What did being married have to do with anything? It wasn’t like she hadn't slept with married guys before.

Mila sighed. “To a man, Yuri.”

“You mean he’s…” she started, her nose wrinkling up at the idea.

“Yep,” Mila gave a short giggle, “Viktor Nikiforov _loves_ the cock.”

“That's disgusting!” Yuri said loudly, not caring that someone, even Viktor, might hear her. “Makes me wanna puke.”

She stuck her tongue out for effect and Mila looked vaguely disappointed for a moment and Yuri tried not to think about what she had done herself as a girl. But that was the point: she was a girl now, so wanting guys to fuck her should be natural, but Viktor wanting to fuck another guy -- wanting to _marry_ another guy?

“That's not all,” she continued, ducking her face close to Yuri’s so Yuri could hear her stage whisper over the sound of the music. She could smell the alcohol on her breath, strong enough to make her eyes water as Mila’s breath puffed hotly against the side of her face. “I heard he and Chris used to be lovers before he met his husband -- and might _still_ be.”

“Why would Viktor marry someone if he planned on cheating?” Yuri asked and Mila laughed and patted her hand.

“Yuri, you're so cute. Obviously you don't understand how men think.”

Yuri frowned at that. She probably knew much better than Mila how men thought given that she had spent her first twelve years as one.

“Besides,” she said after a moment, “I heard his husband isn't all there upstairs, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s retarded?” 

“No, just completely looney tunes.” Mila said. “Like, majorly fucked in the brain.”

“Have you ever met him?” Yuri asked after a moment, suddenly remembering the picture of the fat Asian guy that had been on Viktor’s desk and putting the pieces together. What the hell did Viktor see in that fat pig?

Mila shook her head. 

“No. He never leaves the house. Viktor keeps him under lock and key. Chris told me once that Viktor is extremely overprotective of him.”

“So what, he just sits at home all day and cleans Viktor’s house?”

“Suppose so,” Mila said with a shrug. “You might like this fact though: you two share a name.”

“What?”

“His name is Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense, and Yuri was feeling more than a little uncomfortable about this conversation, so she tried to change to subject.

“Hey Mila, you seem to know a lot about this place....”

“Yeah, so?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Yuri swallowed down her nerves and asked,

“Do you know where I can score a hit?”

Mila shook her head and Yuri felt her spirits drop for a moment.

“There's not much that can get in past Minako,” Mila said. “Even drunk, she's a hound for it. What are you trying to score?”

“Smack?” Yuri asked, hopeful. Minako had tried to get her to dry out, but she was still jonesing for it even now when her body was starting to feel better, more human.

“Oh, someone's been riding the H-train,” Mila said, sounding surprised. “Sorry, Yuri, but I wouldn't count on it. Best you can usually do in here is some Special K if you're a needle freak. You'll have to talk to Otabek, although he primarily deals in pot and E.”

“Who’s Otabek?”

Mila nodded towards the stage. “The DJ.”

\----- 

The place was winding down for the day when she finally got the chance to approach Otabek up in his DJ booth. Mila had assured her that it wasn't at all strange that she might want to meet the man who did the music and that it wouldn't look suspicious, so she had waited until the early morning hours when the music had died to climb the steps up to his little glass booth.

“Otabek?” she questioned when she got up the stairs and saw the leather clad back facing her.

The man jumped ever so slightly before he turned to acknowledge her.

Yuri didn't know why it was suddenly so hard to breathe when she saw him. He was so polar opposite from Viktor, but her first thought was how attractive he was. He was on the short side -- only a few inches taller than her, and she was plenty short -- with a slightly broad build across the shoulders and chest, and dark hair and eyes that stood out starkly against his pale skin. He features looked harsh, but Yuri didn't think it detracted away from his looks -- if anything it added to them. 

He blinked at her a moment in surprise, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks for the briefest of moments before he seemed to come back to himself, his face going instantly expressionless.

“I'm Yuri,” she said, feeling suddenly unsure of herself.

Otabek gave her a strange look, but didn't comment on her name. When he did talk, his voice was flat and thickly accented -- Russian, she thought at first, but quickly changed her mind.

“You want to talk about your music? Usually, it takes me a few days to get to know the girls before I start customizing their music, but if you have any suggestions...”

Yuri shook her head.

“Mila said you could score me some drugs.”

Yuri thought she saw the smallest hint of disappointment on his face, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.

He turned his back to her and coiled the cord for his headphones around the pair in his hands. He looked tired, but Yuri figured since it was late and the club was getting ready to close up for the morning, he probably _was_ tired.

“It depends on what you want,” he told her softly and Yuri had to strain to hear him over the few lingering guests that couldn't take the hint when the music stopped that they should leave. “The hard drugs are difficult to get, but not impossible.”

“Heroin?” she asked.

He shook his head.

"I won't get anything that involves needles. Viktor would get suspicious if his girls had marks on them. Pills are the easiest -- a lot of the girls slip them in with their birth control or aspirin so Minako can't find them.”

His eyes traveled down her arm to the track marks still there -- Minako had covered them with makeup, but sweat from dancing had long since washed it away, leaving it exposed.

She covered her inner arm self-consciously.

“Fine,” she said, trying to sound defiant. “I don't really care what it is. I just need something.”

He shrugged and looked away from her arm, unfazed by her harsh tone. 

“Give me a few days. I'll see what I can get.”

“You don't have anything right now?” she asked desperately.

He shook his head again.

"A lot of the other girls are looking for stuff too. They usually bleed me dry after the first few hours I'm here.”

Yuri felt her hopes dashed completely. 

“I'm sorry,” he said after a moment. “I would help you if I could.”

Defeat settled over her and her body sagged in disappointment. 

“It's okay. I couldn't have paid you anyway.”

“I don't want your money,” Otabek said, giving her a long, hard look.

 _Oh. Of course,_ she thought angrily. Figured that she came to this place so she could get drug money, and here she was, still using her body to get what she wanted. Nothing had really changed.

“A freebie?” she asked, feeling more than a little hostile towards him at the thought.

“No,” Otabek answered slowly, and she swore she saw his cheeks color ever so slightly at her suggestion. “I put extra money in Viktor’s DJ budget to cover anything you girls might want. I know it must be terrible to be stuck in this place all the time. If I can help you forget, even for a few minutes, I will. ”

“Oh,” she said, not knowing what to say to that. 

“I'll let you know when I have something for you,” he told her, then bent down and continued to wind up the chaos of cords that were everywhere around their feet.

“How will I know?” 

“I'll find you. Viktor gives me free range of the place. It's not suspicious for me to see one or two of the girls before we open to talk about their music.”

Yuri digested that information for a moment before she offered him a smile -- it wasn’t much, just a small twitch of her lips, but it changed the mood between them completely.

“I _do_ have a suggestion about my music,” she said. “I want something loud and maybe a little dangerous sounding.”

Otabek actually smiled at that, and Yuri felt something tighten uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Loud and dangerous. _That_ I can do.”

\------

“Who's that?” Yuri asked Mila as she gestured towards the guy who was up in Otabek's booth. She couldn't see him all that well from this distance, but it didn't take binoculars to know he was good looking and entirely too friendly with Otabek.

“Who?” Mila asked, leaning on the bar to get a better view.

“The guy talking to Otabek,” Yuri answered with a gesture.

Mila frowned.

“Oh. _Him_ ,” Mila said, giving her a look. “Why? Do you think he's hot or something?”

“What? Of course not,” Yuri protested, although she knew the blush on her face was not helping her case.

“Uh huh,” Mila said, sounding anything but convinced. “Honestly, Yuri, I don't know what you're so embarrassed about. Haven't you ever been attracted to anyone before?”

Of course she had, but it was still strange for her to think about guys that way. She had never really been attracted to someone as a boy, probably because she had only been twelve, but this body was really fucking with her mind. Her body had some ideas that made her uncomfortable, but it was normal for a girl to be attracted to guys -- problem was, she could still remember being a boy and, well, it was all pretty disconcerting.

“It's complicated,” Yuri mumbled, eyes still watching the guy in Otabek's booth -- she swore for a moment he was staring back at her. She had to be mistaken though, because when she squinted up at him, his back was turned.

“You're a girl that likes guys. I can't see how that's complicated.”

“It just is,” Yuri snarled, her fingers tightening on the glass in her hand. “Anyway, I've seen him here before. Know anything about him?”

Mila cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment further on the matter of Yuri's rather complicated sex life. 

“His name is JJ something-or-other, I think,” Mila said after a moment of studying Yuri. “He's some friend of Otabek's from when he used to work at one of Yakov's other clubs.”

“Who's Yakov?”

Mila stared at her for a moment.

“Viktor’s boss.”

Yuri stared back at her.

“I thought Viktor owned this place.”

Mila shrugged. 

“He does now, because his father gave it to him. He got it a few years ago -- gave it a facelift and a new name. I think he wanted to prove to Yakov that he was capable of running the empire one day.”

Yuri was lost.

“So, Viktor’s father gave him this place so he could prove to Yakov he could run something?”

Mila sighed and shook her head.

“No, Yakov _is_ his father.”

“But you said Yakov was his boss!” Yuri protested.

“Isn't that the same thing?”

Yuri had no idea -- it was not like she ever had a father. Sure, her grandpa had had rules and stuff, but she wouldn't have called him her _boss_. Not for the first time in the last few weeks, Yuri wondered what kind of life Mila had before Club Katsudon.

Before she could ask any further about what exactly Mila had meant by the empire, she was interrupted by one of Viktor’s errand boys. She vaguely remembered the name Leo, but wasn't sure if she had placed the right name with the right face. 

She had gotten to know a few of the boys in the last couple weeks since she had become available, but she had trouble remembering a lot of their names still. It probably wasn't a big deal if she couldn't remember -- Mila had informed her that a lot of them were just here because Viktor or Chris had taken a shine to them — which Yuri took to mean _were really only here because Viktor or Chris wanted to fuck them_. Were all the men here fags?

Her eyes strayed upwards towards Otabek again, her heart pounding just a little harder in her chest.

“Got a client for Miss Yuri,” the boy said. Yuri could barely contain the eyeroll at the ‘Miss’. How did such a polite boy end up working at a place like this for a bastard like Viktor? And why the hell did he think he needed to be polite to a hooker?

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she grabbed the neatly folded paper with the details from him. 

Flipping it open, she cringed. 

“I guess I'm about to find out more about Otabek’s friend,” she told Mila.

“Good for you!” she said with a pat on the back. Her hand lingered there briefly, fingertips brushing over the bare skin of her back where her shirt dipped low, but before Yuri could think on it the touch was gone.

“Sex is always better when you're actually attracted to the person -- although I am disappointed about losing twenty bucks.”

“Why would you lose twenty bucks?”

Mila shook her head.

“Just a bet Sara and I had about Otabek.”

\-----

When Otabek’s friend arrived at the door, Yuri had somewhat expected him to be a lot like Otabek: quiet, respectful and shy -- so she was awfully surprised when the man (well, no, probably just a teenager now that she could see him better) that greeted her wore a wide grin and a cocky expression.

“Yuri?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb, one hand up against the frame and looking far too casual.

“Come in,” she told him, not even bothering to sound flirtatious like Mila had taught her. This guy had already paid -- she hardly needed to keep him interested. 

She had already come back to her room and changed into some lingerie that Minako had picked out for her -- that should be enough to keep him plenty interested without much effort. Besides, it wasn't like these guys were after her for her personality -- she didn't need to be nice to them for them to want to fuck her; in fact some guys seemed to get off on the fact that she had a bit of an attitude. Maybe they thought fucking her was somehow teaching her a lesson -- she did seem to have a certain appeal to those who wanted to treat a girl rough, or just the ones with tiny dicks that wanted to feel good about themselves next to her tiny body. She wondered what category this guy fell into.

“My name is Jean-Jacques Leroy,” he said as he followed Yuri inside. Like she cared about the name of the guy who paid to fuck her. “My friends call me JJ.”

“We aren't friends,” Yuri said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. The way his shoulders slumped slightly, she wasn't sure she succeeded.

“I was just being polite, darling,” he told her, his grin not faltering.

“Most guys don't buy me for conversation,” Yuri said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and spreading her legs. She was pretty sure he’d get the point at that -- it wasn't a signal most men would miss.

“Maybe I'm not like most guys,” he said, knees hitting the edge of the bed between Yuri’s legs, and Yuri expected that things would finally get a move on, but she was wrong.

Instead of pushing her down on the bed like every guy who had fucked her before, JJ leaned down and pressed their lips together.

She was so shocked by the move it took her a few seconds before her brain caught up to the fact that JJ was _kissing_ her. When she finally processed what was happening, JJ’s tongue was in her mouth and it took every ounce of Yuri's willpower to push him away. No one had ever _kissed_ her before.

“What are you doing?” she snapped when she had managed to shove him back. He gave her a look of disappointment.

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug, body language instantly back to the cocky swagger it had before. “I've never done this before.”

For a long moment Yuri thought he meant he was a virgin, but her brain quickly engaged and reminded her that _that_ was not the kiss of a virgin. 

“Why did you start now?” Yuri wondered out loud before she realized that she was just baiting him for more conversation. Crap. They were never going to get to the fucking, were they?

JJ reached out, fingertips tracing her lips -- she parted them slightly, but didn't encourage him any further.

“I saw you dancing earlier to Beks’s song.” He shrugged. “I guess I was feeling impulsive.”

“Who’s Beks?” she asked, lips moving against his fingers until he moved to cup her cheek.

“Otabek, the DJ here. He's my…” he paused and Yuri wondered why it seemed so hard for him to think of a word to describe the guy he sometimes visited at work. If they weren't friends, what word could JJ possibly be searching for?

“Friend?” she suggested when JJ still looked lost.

“Yeah, I guess you could call him that,” JJ conceded.

“Not that this conversation hasn't been riveting,” she told him as she grabbed his hand from her face and brought it down between her legs, “but if you could get on with what you paid for? I don't think I've ever had to work so hard to inspire a man to fuck me.”

“Sorry, baby. I'm not used to havin’ it so easy,” JJ said with a grin. “Even my groupies aren't this forward.”

“Groupies?” she asked, then immediately cringed, realizing that she had just prolonged this whole experience. 

Crap. She was always good at getting them off in a hurry and getting the fuck back out there, but this guy wasn't making her job easy.

“The King JJ Band is super famous,” he said with a cocky grin. 

“Never heard of you,” Yuri said, trying not to sound bored at the idiot's yammering, but it was a losing battle. 

“Our first album went platinum,” he told her, obviously disappointed.

Well, that explained why he managed to hang around Club Katsudon and not get kicked to the curb: he had money. But, if he was so big and important, why did he choose to fuck _her_? Couldn't he just pick up a groupie? That would at least not cost him a fortune.

Why the fuck did she care if this douche wanted to waste his money on her? Let him talk forever. He'd only paid for two hours of her time. If he kept talking, they would be a breeze.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

His blue eyes almost looked… hurt? But she wasn't being paid to stroke his ego, rather to stroke something else of his.

“If you're not interested in fucking, you could probably still ask for your money back,” Yuri said, releasing his hand and flopping back on the bed to regard him with bored eyes.

The guy was pretty hot -- that Yuri could admit -- but he couldn't keep his mouth shut, and Yuri was not enjoying this as much as she'd hoped she would when she first got his invite.

“Oh no,” JJ said and finally settled on the bed between her thighs, “I'm _very_ interested.”

She could see his half-hard dick pushing out the front of his jeans and she grinned to herself -- he was getting hard talking about himself. What a fucking dumbass.

Leaning up on her elbow, she reached out and pressed her hand lightly against the fly of his jeans, teasing the zipper before he swatted her hand away and cupped her chin, kissing her again.

She didn't know what this guy had against getting to the fucking, but at least this was a step in the right direction. She was beginning to grow impatient with him, but she clumsily returned his kiss, something strange washing through her at the feel of his tongue on hers.

She ought to pull away -- this wasn't what someone was supposed to do with a whore -- but there was just something so _normal_ about it that she couldn't help herself. Was this what it was like for normal girls her age? Kissing someone before they actually did it? Or maybe not even doing it at all, just kissing someone because they _wanted_ to?

It didn't take long to shake herself out of the thoughts of being a normal girl; after all, she wasn't even meant to be a girl — nothing about her situation could be construed as normal.

Yanking her mouth away from his, she panted -- she had no idea kissing could literally take your breath away! -- and tried to regain control of this situation.

It wasn't working. JJ just stared down at her, looking entirely too amused.

“You need to breathe out your nose,” he told her.

She growled at him, and moved her head to the side before his lips could find hers again.

“I'm not interested in kissing you.”

JJ _smirked_ , the stupid cocky bastard.

“Funny, you seemed interested a few seconds ago.”

She didn't bait him any further, instead reached down and cupped his half-hard dick that was starting to push hard against the fly of his jeans. That distracted both of them plenty.

He threw his head back with a gasped out moan and she couldn't help but just stare down between their bodies because -- holy fucking shit -- there was a lot more cock there than she was expecting. It was fucking _huge_ , and suddenly his cockiness made a lot more sense. 

Her fingers were beginning to unzip his pants before his hand stilled hers, blue eyes shining as he stared down at her, lust obvious.

“No need to rush,” he said.

Of course there was. That was the whole point of her job. Get them in, get them off, then get them out. It was pretty obvious that this obnoxious dick didn't understand that he was putting a bit of a cramp in her style.

“I'd like to just get down to business if you don't mind,” she told him, pushing his hand away to unzip his pants. This time he didn't protest her fingers, but did give her a bit of a curious look.

“Do you even enjoy sex?” he asked.

She felt her shoulders tense, but couldn't stop the response.

“It's not about whether I enjoy it or not,” she said after a moment, her voice sounding much more defensive than she wanted.

“But you _could_ ,” he commented before he bit his lip, clearly enjoying the fact that her hand had worked its way inside the fly if his pants.

“You really don't understand how this whole paying for sex thing works, do you?”

“Oh, I get it,” he said, “I'm just not interested in someone who doesn't get as well as they give.”

That was _not_ how this was supposed to work. She pulled her hand out of his pants and shoved him back, surprised when he went easily.

“If you want to stop, that’s fine,” JJ said, looking a little disappointed. “I don't even need my money back.”

That made her pause for a minute. No one had ever actually cared about whether or not she actually _wanted_ this. Men had always acted like she didn't have any feelings, like she was just some interactive fuck toy for them. Weirdly, this interaction with JJ was making her a lot more uncomfortable than that ever did.

“Don't be a jackass,” she said and slid out from beneath him so that she could push him down on the bed and change their positions. He went willingly, stupid grin only faltering when she straddled his hips and ground down on his cock, which was very quickly becoming wet and dripping. Damn, she was good.

“Okay,” JJ said, and she was a little bit surprised that he could still talk so easily considering how hard his cock felt rubbing against her bare cunt, but he didn't miss a beat.

“You're willing,” he continued, “but you're not into it. I can tell.”

He gave her a pointed look downwards and she sighed.

“Do you ever shut up, or do you get off on hearing the sound of your own voice?” she growled out before she finally gave in and used his own technique against him -- she kissed him hard, gagging him with her tongue.

He pulled away after a few seconds, and finally, this time looked a little rattled by it. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he said, but he didn't let her up, instead keeping the hand that found its way around her neck in place. She expected him to kiss her again, but he didn't, instead he brought his mouth to her neck, gently sucking at the tender flesh below her ear.

A wave of pleasure cascaded down her spine at the feeling of his mouth hot against her skin and she was more than a little ashamed when she felt herself becoming a little wet.

He laughed softly against her, probably feeling exactly what was happening to her against his dick.

Damn it. He was trying to make her actually get invested in this.

She pushed him away, feeling suddenly embarrassed at getting worked up. 

“Can you take this off?” he asked when he let her go so that he could tug at the bottom of her lingerie. It wasn't hiding very much, but for some reason she felt a nervous flutter in her belly at the idea of being stripped completely bare in front of JJ.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” she suggested and he laughed at that.

“Sure,” he answered before he sat up, displacing her so he could tug his shirt over his head. “I suppose it's only fair.”

Stupid fucking dickhead wasn't just hung like a horse, goddamned guy was fucking ripped too. If he could just learn to keep his mouth shut, he'd easily be one of the hottest guys she'd ever seen.

Too bad _that_ would never happen.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down his hips, his huge cock jutting out from a nest of dark pubic hair and curving upwards towards his belly. He wasn't completely hard yet, but his cock was nicely flushed, the smallest bead of precome shining at the tip; she hadn't realized that she was staring at his dick until it twitched and grew even fuller. So he was getting off on her looking at him naked. Figured.

What a conceited asshole.

She didn't even bother to hide her eyeroll from him before she reached for the bottom of her sheer negligee and yanked it upwards in one motion. She tossed it to the floor and looked back at him.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded with a wide stupid grin and some weird part of her had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him. Where had _that_ idea come from?

Frustrated with herself, she pushed him back down to the bed, not caring that his jeans were still tangled up around his knees because she hadn't given him a chance to remove his shoes, or that her own feet were still clad in white stockings and heels.

With her hand pressed against his chest, forcing him down, she could feel his breath hitch as their now naked bodies slid together. That seemed to be the final inspiration he needed, his cock now pressed flat against his belly, way past his belly button. It dribbled a little precome across his abs and she felt her mouth go momentarily dry at the idea that that _monster_ cock would have to somehow fit inside her tiny body. 

“Don't be intimidated, baby,” he said, hands reaching up to stroke her bare side then slide down to rest on her belly. “My cock won't bite.”

“It’s not biting I'm worried about,” she snapped, her eyes going back to stare defiantly into his.

Taking a deep breath she tore her eyes away from his and tried to steel herself.

“I won't hurt you, baby,”JJ soothed, and, well, fuck that. She didn't need that douche trying to make her feel better about his enormous fucking cock.

What a prick.

Leaning over him, she reached for the bedside table where she kept a pile of condoms and a fairly large bottle of lube, but she was surprised when his hand reached for hers and pulled it back to him.

“Not yet,” he told her with a shake of his head. “You're barely wet.”

She stared at him stupidly. 

“That's what the lube is for.” _You fucking moron_ , she added silently.

“I get that,” he told her, “and we should probably use it because I'm probably a lot bigger than any guy you've ever been with…”

What an arrogant dickweed.

“But, I don't want to do it yet. I want you wet for me, kitten,” he finished.

It took every bit of Yuri’s willpower not to either clock him one or just get the fuck off him and leave him there with blue balls. If it weren't for the fear of Viktor’s wrath, she would probably do both.

The thought of Viktor sent a small thrill down her spine. Fuck, why did he have to be a cocksucker? 

There was a small voice, just at the back of her mind, suggesting that if she still had a dick, maybe she would have a chance with him. But she easily suppressed it, her consciousness dragged back into the present when JJ pulled her down and kissed her again.

“I don't know what you were thinking about,” JJ said, lips moving against her own, “but it was getting you hot and bothered.”

“I was thinking about tying you up and leaving you here for a while to suffer,” she informed him before she bit his bottom lip. She didn't bite him hard, and she could feel his cock give a jerk under her.

So he liked it a little rough? She could do rough.

“Retract your claws, kitten,” he told her, pulling away and rubbing his lip. She was a little disappointed that she didn't draw blood. “Are you this cruel to all your clients?”

“Just you,” Yuri said with a smirk.

“Mmm, guess that makes me special.”

Yuri frowned. 

“You know, your two hours is almost up. You're not even going to get off.”

JJ shrugged, and slid his hand around the back of her neck again, rubbing at the sensitive skin just under her ear that he had sucked on earlier.

“I can come anytime I want to. How often are guys considerate enough to get you off?”

It had never happened, actually. Ever. The only orgasms that she had ever experienced in her life had been self-inflicted, and even that had only been twice in her very early days at Club Katsudon.

She could feel her cheeks getting hot, thinking about it and was horrified to realize that JJ had noticed her discomfort.

He grinned at her.

She opened her mouth to protest, but JJ cut her off with a kiss. She didn't know how long they kissed, but she imagined that his time was really close to being up. It wasn't like there was a buzzer that would go off or something if JJ overstayed his welcome, but she still didn't think it was a good idea to prolong it. The girls all feared Minako for a reason, and Yuri didn't want to find out what might happen if she pressed her luck.

But she was enjoying the kissing a lot. She had put up a fight at first, but there was something really hot about JJ’s tongue on hers -- he definitely had experience with this before, probably lots of times -- nevermind the fact that his fingertips kept rubbing that same spot below her ear.

Disappointment ran through her when he pulled back, her lips chasing his unconsciously before she managed to get herself under control.

He let go of her neck, but she stayed still, waiting for him to decide what to do next. It wasn't a long wait, his lips coming back her, this time to kiss along her jaw and down her neck.

If kissing her kept him quiet, she really couldn't complain about it, but the wet press of his lips against her bare skin sent a shiver of more than just pleasure down her spine. She didn't get too long to think about what those other feelings might be though, before he put his hands, that had been otherwise absent, to good use.

While no one had ever really complained about her small tits -- Mila had said some guys actually get off on the under developed pre-teen look, but Yuri wasn't sure that was a comforting fact -- she had never really been confident in their size. It really wasn't fair, after being forced to live as a girl, at least she could have gotten a bigger rack.

But JJ didn't seem to mind that they were small, his huge hand eclipsing them -- actually his huge hand eclipsed just about half her chest driving the size difference between them home. She wondered briefly if she would still be so small if she were still a boy, but it was driven instantly out of her mind when JJ’s thumb flicked over her nipple.

A shock of electric pleasure went through her at the feeling, a throbbing sensation between her legs as she let out a small gasp.

“I think you liked that,” JJ said with a cocky grin.

Yuri wanted to deny it, but she couldn't find words as JJ’s hand left her chest to grip her ass and drag her forward so his tongue could find her nipple.

Oh _God_ , if she thought JJ’s thumb rubbing her nipple felt amazing, then it had nothing on the feeling of his hot mouth wet against it. Even more mind blowing was when he took the nub between his lips and sucked gently.

She found herself fisting his hair against her will, and rocking her hips back against him as far as JJ’s huge hands would allow -- which wasn't far enough.

A fingertip ghosted over her tightly puckered hole before it moved forward and upwards, sliding easily through her wetness and she could feel sweat collect at the back of her neck as his finger delved inside.

Closing her eyes, she unconsciously fucked his fingers, her body betraying her as JJ laughed softly. 

“You're so wet for me,” JJ told her.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Yuri responded with a growl, biting her lip to keep the noises of pleasure that tried to escape her lips at bay.

JJ chuckled. 

“I can do that.”

Yuri pulled herself away from JJ’s searching fingers, ignoring the feeling of disappointment coursing through her as his hands fell away from her so she could grab the bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table.

It took her a few tries to rip the foil package before JJ looked impatient, took it away from her, and used his teeth to easily open it.

“I could have done that!” Yuri snapped, ripping the condom from his hands before she settled back on his muscular thighs and started to roll the latex down his cock. It didn't go on easy, and she wasn't sure if the strangled noise JJ made was from her hand on him, or the tightness of the condom. 

It didn't even go all the way down to the base and was obviously thin in places, but she didn't have a larger size -- she wasn't even sure they made a larger size -- so it would have to do. 

“I don't think it fits,” JJ complained, his hand coming down to circle the bottom of the condom to rub at it.

Despite his complaints his cock hadn't wilted any, so it must not be too bad. She ignored him and poured lube generously over his cock, her hand moving up and down a few times to coat it well, her fingers not even fitting all the way around the girth of him.

JJ let out a long moan before he grabbed her hand and pulled it back.

“If you keep doing that we won't get to the main event.”

Part of her wanted to keep doing it, just to see how disappointed he would be not to fuck her, but a larger, more desperate part of her just wanted to sink down on him and ride him for all he was worth.

“Come on,” JJ urged, hands gripping her hips to pull her forward. She didn't protest, just lifted herself up until she could grip his dick and bring it to her entrance.

Her hand slipped off -- maybe she had used a little too much lube, but he hadn't been kidding about being big -- but she quickly regained her grip, her body spreading apart as JJ’s cock forced her open. It was so thick, she struggled to get him past the initial resistance of her body, but after a few moments the head of his cock slipped in and her body slowly took him in. 

She could feel every inch stretch her insides impossibly wide as she lowered herself down, and had to bite her lip in concentration, willing herself to relax so she could accommodate more of him inside her. He was impossibly deep already, but she couldn't feel his hipbones under her body yet, so she grit her teeth and pushed down more, driving him even deeper until she couldn't breathe, because her body was just so full.

Throwing her head back, she braced her hands on his hard stomach and tried to arch her back, wondering if it would help, if she could somehow take more of him, but another inch slid in and suddenly nothing could go any further, a small pain rippling through her as his cock hit something inside that she was pretty sure was never a good sign.

The pain must have shown on her face, because suddenly JJ’s hands came back, sliding under Yuri's thighs, holding her above his hips and the base of his dick which was so tantalizingly close if only she could force herself to take the last few inches -- but she was already so full it actually hurt.

“Don't force yourself,” he murmured against her skin, hot breath ghosting over her nipple as he spoke. “I've only ever met one person who could take all of me the first go round.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” she asked, ripping his hands away from her thighs.

She tried to force another inch, but she immediately winced as pain shot through her and JJ grabbed onto her hips to stop her. 

“Yuri,” he said gently, and something hot trickled through her at the sound of her name on his lips. He leaned back against the bed, staring up at her, and she could feel shame go through her. What good was she as a whore if she couldn't take all of him?

One hand left her hip and she nearly tried again to sink down on him, but she was quickly brought to a halt by his fingers against her belly. 

“I can see every inch of me inside you,” he said in awe, tracing around the outline of his cock where it pushed out her stomach.

Holy crap. That wasn't normal, right? She tried to pull herself upwards, off his cock, but his hands came quickly to grip her hips.

“Don't,” he said, sounding breathless. “It's incredibly hot.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yuri said with a grunt. “You don't have ten inches of cock inside you.”

“That's only about eight, actually,” JJ quickly returned.

Oh god, she was worse at this whore thing than she thought. Eight inches wasn't even that much!

“Still a respectable amount,” he said and Yuri wriggled out of his hands so she could bounce down on his cock, wondering if she could force more. 

Respectable wasn't what she was aiming for -- all or nothing.

“It's not a contest,” JJ commented as his hands quickly came back to her hips again. “Maybe I'm letting you have too much control.”

“Fuck you,” Yuri growled out and thrust her hips upwards.

A shudder went through her before his grip tightened even more, and the next thing she knew she was lying flat on her back under him, her legs up in the air and his cock still deep inside her.

“I'm trying,” JJ panted, “But you're being more of a hindrance than a help right now.”

She kicked his back with the heel of her shoe at that, smirking as a shudder went through him and she could feel his cock swell inside her.

“Giddy up, horsey,” she told him snidely.

He caught her leg in his hand, easily changing his grip to push both her legs up towards her chest at an almost painful position. Except it wasn't painful, instead it opened her up so he could lean down over her, his cock pressing at a new angle as he kisses her.

“Be patient, baby,” he murmured against her lips when he finally started to pull out slowly, just a little, then push back inside, and oh god --

Without her permission her legs came up to wrap around his waist and urge him on. This time he isn't coy, pulling out so far she was almost afraid he was planning on leaving, then thrusting back inside quickly. It only takes a moment for him to find a good rhythm, and her fingers were beginning to curl into the sheets below her, her hips canting downward to meet his.

The pace was steady, but not overwhelming, and she was sure that he was doing it on purpose -- careful not to push in too far or too hard — but this pace wasn't going to get either of them off and frankly, she was starting to lose some of the interest she had earlier.

“You can fuck me harder,” she panted, but JJ just shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

“I'll hurt you,” he said with a gasp.

She dug the heels of her shoes into the thick muscle of his back, and was rewarded with a yelp and a harder thrust. Grinning to herself, she did it again, but this time, JJ didn't bite.

“I want you to fuck me harder,” Yuri demanded. “I wanna feel you for days.”

When he only smirked in response she let her nails cut into his bare shoulders.

“I'd rather make you remember me for years,” he told her before he brought his hand up to knead her breast, then leaned down to kiss her again. Well, that certainly helped, but it wasn't going to get her off.

It was a few more thrusts, slightly less controlled than before, before his hand snaked between their bodies and his knuckles rubbed on either side of her clit.

The stimulation made her toes curl and her nails bite harder into his skin, but he didn't seem to mind, his fingers continuing to rub her pleasure spot as he fucked into her. Not much longer and she was starting to shake with ecstasy, sweat clinging to her skin, noises escaping her that she would completely deny making later, her whole body feeling suddenly tightly coiled and fuck --

The gasping sob that she made as she came seemed to utterly wreck JJ because any bit of control he had over himself snapped -- his hips thrusting erratically, deeper, harder -- and it hurt just the slightest bit, but mostly it felt amazing and she knew if his finger kept rubbing her, and his cock kept pounding into her that she was going to lose it again.

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, her head pressed hard against the pillow as her body curled itself off the bed, both seeking and trying to escape the stimulation. Her whole body clamped up this time, an almost primal noise ripped from her throat as she squirted against his cock.

“Ah, fuck,” he cried, his hand leaving her clit to clutch at the bedsheets and suddenly there was a flood of warmth spreading through her insides that she hadn't felt since before she came to the club.

She didn't know how long they stayed there, with JJ’s cock going soft inside her, but she was willing to bet his two hours were long past being up. JJ didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, either, leaning down to kiss her as he pulled out.

“I think the condom broke,” he told her sheepishly when he pulled back from the kiss and looked down at his cock. “You're on the pill, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” she lied, her mind still feeling fuzzy from her orgasm. Minako had given her a disk of tiny blue pills, but Yuri hadn't been taking them, instead letting them wash down the sink every morning. She didn't really see the point -- she wasn't meant to be a girl, how could she possibly be fertile? And what if taking something meant for girls somehow hurt her? It wasn't a stretch to think that taking something that controlled hormones might affect her if she ever managed to become a boy again. Not that she retained much hope that it would one day happen.

“Sorry,” he said. “I knew it was tight, but I've never had one break before.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm not,” Yuri told him, wishing the guy would just shut up and let her bask in her afterglow.

Christ. _This_ was exactly what well-fucked felt like. She had heard people say it before, but she had never really felt it before.

“Are you sure?” he asked, concern evident in his blue eyes.

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” she snapped, and he happily obeyed.

\-----

“Psst, Yuri,” Mila said with a wave inside as Yuri closed the door to her room.

Mila’s room wasn't far from her own and it wasn't so unusual for Mila to invite her in when neither of them were entertaining. She knew this particular invite was for a very particular reason.

The door was barely closed behind them when Mila grinned at her.

“So dish,” she told Yuri. “I could hear you screaming from here and that didn't exactly sound like noises of pain.”

Yuri felt herself go hot at that, mortified that she had been so loud that Mila could hear her even through the thick walls of the place. It wasn't like she hadn't heard some of the other girls before, but those had mostly been fake cries of pleasure, or real cries of pain; this was the first time she had contributed to those sounds. She had prided herself before today with always being quiet while guys fucked her -- some guys got off on it, sure, but most found it off-putting and she considered their disappointment her one pleasure she got out of fucking them.

But JJ had gotten under her skin in so many ways today.

“Have you ever….?” she started, but stalled, not even sure what she wanted to ask Mila. Had she ever had a guy make her come? Had she ever had a guy treat her so nice it made her head feel funny and wrong? 

“Yuri! Don't leave me in suspense. How was he?”

“Have you ever had a guy with a cock so big you couldn't take it all?” she blurted, then felt mortified all over again. They were whores, sure, but she and Mila didn't exactly talk about things like this. Sure, how to get a guy off quick so he leaves was a common topic, or how to make it look like you were enjoying yourself when you really weren't, but this was deeply personal.

Mila’s eyebrow twitched upwards. 

“How big are we talking?”

“Dunno,” Yuri told her before she held her hands up in a rough estimate.

Mila actually looked a little pale at that.

“Holy shit, Yuri. Did you --” but whatever she had been about to ask was lost as a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Fuck. I hope that's not Minako,” Mila whispered. “She's been bothering me all night. And will probably not be too happy to see you here.”

Yuri wanted to ask why Minako wouldn't be happy about her -- aside from the obvious fact that they were “gently encouraged” to find a new client quickly and she was clearly slacking off -- but the door swung open before she could form words.

She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding when she saw Sara peek around the door, looking nervous.

“Sara, what happened?” Mila asked, concern in her voice as Sara came into the small room and Mila cupped her cheek to get a better look at her face.

It was obvious that she had been crying, her eyes red and puffy, but that wasn't what caught Yuri’s eye: it was the sickly colored bruise that surrounded a nasty cut on her cheek.

“I'm leaving, Mila,” Sara’s voice shook as she took Mila’s hand in hers, her eyes starting to tear again. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Think about what you're saying, Sara,” Mila said. “Even if you manage to get out, you _know_ what happens to girls that betray Viktor.”

“Why _not_ just leave?” Yuri interrupted. Mila turned to look at her sadly as Sara buried her face in Mila's shoulder and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Door’s right there. Just walk out. You can't tell me the only thing keeping you here is that contract you signed?”

“Of course not,” Mila told her, arms still tight around Sara. “That contract doesn't mean anything. It's just to cover his ass if anyone finds out what's really happening here.”

“You mean the prostitution?”

“I mean the sex slavery,” Mila said quietly. “We sign those contracts so he can prove we want to be here, that we agreed to be his whores. But we can't leave, Yuri. We're prisoners here.”

“Of course we can leave!”

Mila shook her head and she could hear Sara quietly crying. 

“Yuri, do you honestly believe those guards on the door are only to keep out the undesirable customers? Why do you think there's a guard even after the club closes? It's to make sure none of the girls escape.”

Yuri wasn't sure how she was supposed to process that information. She was a prisoner, but what would she do with freedom? She got fed here. It was warm. She had a bed to sleep in with clean sheets. She even got the drugs she craved, when Otabek managed. She never had such comforts outside of the club. Maybe the trade off was men beating her or being more than a little rough, but it wasn't all that different before she was here.

But Sara clearly didn't feel the same way.

“I can't show my face to Mickey,” Sara said softly after a moment, her voice sounding tiny and far away. “I don't know what he would do, if he knew.”

“It's okay,” Mila said soothingly, her fingers threading through Sara’s long hair. “Mickey may be angry, but he's not so stupid that he'd do something to a client, or Viktor. Maybe with some extra makeup he won't even see it.”

Sara shook her head. “I'm afraid, Mila. What if he does do something stupid? I can't lose him.”

She was crying again, and Mila was rubbing soothing circles on her back and Yuri was suddenly feeling awkward like she was intruding on a private moment she had no business seeing. So she took her leave, silently slipping into the hallway and letting Sara’s cries fall quiet behind the seal of the door.

\--------

It was the most ridiculous bowl cut that Yuri had ever seen, but the guy sporting it was not unattractive. Although, really not Yuri’s type. 

That thought made her pause, wondering when she started to have a type and silently cursing JJ and that fact that he had spoiled her the last few weeks. 

Attraction wasn't important in this business, and that hadn't really bothered her before JJ, but now she was suddenly feeling disappointed when a client looked less than ideal. Stupid cocky bastard could never know that he had ruined her -- the whole thing made her want to puke.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and regarded the guy in front of her coolly. She had seen him here a few times before, but he had never really looked like he belonged. He didn't crowd the stage with the other guys, and she was pretty sure she had never seen him buy a drink, let alone a girl. But he had never been asked to leave, even though it was obvious Viktor wanted him to every time she saw his face. She wasn't sure what made Viktor tolerate him so much, but the mystery was enough for her to try to be on her best behavior.

“What's your name?” he asked.

She tried to smile, but judging by his look it was probably not the prettiest smile she had ever managed. That didn't seem to turn him off, though.

“Yuri. Yours?” she asked, trying to sound flirty. She was never very good at flirty, but most men didn't seem to mind, and Yuri had always figured as long as she had tits and was for sale they weren't inclined to care that she was terrible at this part.

“Phichit,” he said with a smile that was kind and genuine, and made Yuri feel strange. Guys weren’t supposed to smile like that, especially not at whores like her. It made her instantly distrust him -- like she didn't have her doubts about him before.

“Lookin’ for a little one-on-one?” she asked, threading her fingers through the ends of her hair and letting it fall around her face as she tried to sound as neutral as possible.

“Just a little bit of your time, actually.”

“My time’s not free, you know,” she answered back, trying not to snap at him.

“Don't worry,” Phichit said with another one of those wide, honest grins, “Viktor already got his money.”

Yuri gave him a wary look, not knowing if she should try to call his bluff or just believe him. It wasn't that strange that a client paid then came to pick up the merchandise, but this guy wasn't like other clients here, that much she knew.

“I left it with some kid named Guang Hong. You can ask him if you don't believe me.”

She shook her head and sighed softly to herself. Maybe she could pop one of those pills that Otabek had slipped her this morning before she actually did this guy. It wasn't like this guy was ugly or anything, but those pills did seem to make everything better and not for the first time she was extremely grateful for Otabek. 

She forced her mind away from the drugs currently hiding under a pile of unused condoms in her bedside drawer and focused on the guy in front of her.

He offered her a smile and she barely contained her eyeroll as she sat her half-full glass on the bar and slid off her stool.

“No, it's fine,” she told him, reaching out to grab his hand and lead him to her room.

She fully expected him to get started immediately once the door was closed behind them, but he didn't, instead lingering by the door and staring at the bed rather suspiciously.

Yuri sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the empty mattress beside her in invitation, but Phichit didn't move.

She sighed.

“You're not going to get what you paid for if you just stand there,” she told him, dipping her head down so she could look up at him through her eyelashes.

Phichit shook his head and remained firmly across the room from her.

“Does Viktor put cameras or recording devices in your rooms?” he asked and Yuri just stared at him for a moment.

“Of course not. What would be the point?”

“Insurance.”

“Against what?” Yuri asked, feeling dumb.

Phichit shook his head again and took a tentative step towards her.

“That's not important,” he said with a dismissive gesture and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone.

“Taking pictures costs extra, buddy,” Yuri said with and frown and Phichit laughed.

“Don't get the wrong idea. It's nothing weird, I swear. I just wanted to take some notes.”

Yuri stared at him stupidly. “Notes on _what_? Technique?”

Phichit grinned at her. “No, honestly, I just wanted a little of your time, like I said earlier. I'm a journalist.”

Well, no wonder Viktor always looked annoyed whenever he saw Phichit. Naturally Viktor wouldn't want someone snooping around here. Between the sex trafficking and the underage girls, not to mention the drugs floating around here -- it was a regular hotbed of criminal activity and this guy had the potential to expose Viktor for what he was. She wasn't sure exactly what Viktor was -- she didn't know if that mob thing was just rumors or if there was any truth there -- but it didn't matter because his involvement in illegal activities could still prove to be a problem regardless.

“I just wanted to ask you some questions about this place.”

Yuri leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she was going to get in trouble for talking to this guy. She really should have checked and made sure he paid, but his face had just been so kind and open that she hadn't really given it a second thought.

“Alright,” Yuri said with a sigh after a moment. “Shoot.”

“Don't worry -- Yuri, was it? -- it will be off the record. No one outside of us will know what you said.”

Yuri was pretty sure that if something did end up in the paper, Viktor would have no problem figuring out that Phichit asked for some private time with her, but she didn’t call him out on it. He didn't seem like he was exactly a tough guy reporter. He probably thought this story would be his big break or some shit. Why he chose this place out of everywhere that he could do an exposè on, she really didn’t know, but he did seem to know Viktor.

“How long have you been at the club?” he asked as he typed on the tiny phone keyboard.

Yuri shrugged. 

“‘Bout six months now.”

“And how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she told him without missing a beat, absently picking at a stain on her sheets. 

“How old are you really?” Phichit asked, giving her a knowing look.

Yuri didn't budge, knowing answering truthfully was dangerous.

“Eighteen,” she repeated, feeling bored with his questioning already. 

Sighing, he dropped his hand down to look at Yuri; she stared back him defiantly.

“You can answer truthfully. I'm here to try to expose this place for what it is.”

Yuri frowned. If he did a story on this place, likely she'd be back out on the streets or become a ward of the state if it closed down. As terrible as the sex work was, at least she was pretty comfortable here. She had heard stories of stuff that happened in foster care, and she knew she'd rather be on the streets then put into the system, but this was definitely preferable to both.

“And what would that be?” Yuri asked with a cock of her eyebrow.

That seemed to stump him for a moment, maybe trying to decide how much he wanted to share that he knew, but he eventually came back with,

“I know this place is more than just a strip club that deals in prostitution. He may have to police looking the other way about selling sex, but there's more going on here. What do you know about a man named Yakov?”

“Never heard of him,” Yuri lied. She was so bored! It wasn't like she had been jazzed about fucking him but sex would definitely be preferable to his questioning.

She really didn't know anything -- not really -- and anything she did know she sure as a shit wasn't going to share with this guy. He was really barking up the wrong tree. She was only interested in saving her own skin and certainly didn't care about what else Viktor got up to. The only thing she knew he got up to for sure, aside of sex slavery, was cheating on his husband, but she was pretty sure that Phichit wouldn't be interested in the fact that he couldn't keep it in his pants. Or the fact that he was a faggot. Of course, given that Viktor was married, that fact was probably public record.

Phichit didn't look too convinced by her answer.

“He's the slippery Don of the Russian mafia. Everyone knows, but the police have never been able to pin anything on him.”

“Good for him,” Yuri told him with a faked yawn. She spread her legs and looked pointedly at him, but he didn't seem bothered by the implied, ‘Fuck me or get the fuck out.’

“Come on,” he tried to coax her, “you must know something about what goes on around here.”

“Sorry,” Yuri said, sounding anything but apologetic. “I guess you backed the wrong horse.”

Phichit looked disappointed. 

“If you knew what he was truly capable of, you wouldn't protect him.”

Yuri gave him a strange look. 

“Who said I was protecting _him_?”

\----------

Phichit was only gone for a few minutes, disappointment evident in the slump of his shoulders as he left, when there was a sharp knock on her door.

“My little Yuri,” Viktor said when she opened the door. “A little bird told me you had a special meeting with our resident nosy reporter.”

The smile on his face was far from pleasant and it sent a wave of something akin to fear shivering down her spine; Phichit’s words about what Viktor was truly capable of suddenly ringing in her ears.

“Yeah,” she told him, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the door frame, the leopard print tank she was wearing falling down one shoulder as it dipped down.

“He paid for an hour, but I don't think he was here more than twenty minutes. Complete waste if you ask me.”

Viktor cocked his head to the side and stared at her. 

“I _am_ asking you, Yuri,” Viktor said evenly and she didn't miss the edge of a threat lingering there.

“He just wanted to talk,” Yuri told him, her stomach suddenly feeling like a ball of nerves.

Viktor frowned at that.

“About what?”

Yuri shrugged. 

“You, mostly,” she said.

“And what did you say?” Viktor spat out, his hands shaking with what she assumed was anger as he reached out and gripped her face, fingertips pressing hard into her cheeks. It hurt, but she let him grab her and pull her forward to stare him in the eyes “What did you tell him, you little shit?”

“Nothing,” Yuri gasped out, her whole body shaking as she looked into his eyes, beautiful eyes that shone with a deadly fire within them. “I told him I didn't know anything about you.”

Viktor tossed her bodily back into the room, and she stumbled, the heel of her shoe catching on something that lay on the floor behind her, sending her sprawling on the hard ground. It came up so swiftly, she didn't have time to brace herself, her shoulder hitting hard before her head slammed into the ground.

“Good,” Viktor told her, his voice sounding suddenly far away, and she didn't think she imagined the tang of blood in her mouth and the darkness edging her vision.

“Take the rest of the night off, Yuri,” he said coolly, closing the door behind him as he turned on his heel and left her lying there like trash. The click of the lock and the sound of his dress shoes against the tile in the hallway were almost deafening in the sudden quiet in the room.

\---------

The worst part about biting your lip is that days later you can't stop tonguing the spot. 

Yuri pressed her tongue up against the spot where her teeth cut through her lip when she fell, and wondered if it was still as obvious as it was yesterday. When she had woken up yesterday morning with her head pounding and feeling sick to her stomach, she hadn't paid much attention to her mouth; not until Minako had brought her breakfast and unlocked her room did she realize that the cut was there. It only took one bite of over-salted eggs (a Minako specialty) and she felt it immediately.

Really, she should have been looking in a mirror more than she did, because when she finally went in the tiny bathroom to peek at her reflection, her lip was so swollen it looked like she had gotten a collagen injection on one side of her mouth. It was completely ridiculous looking.

Not to mention the fact that her chin had been covered in dried blood. It was no wonder Minako had given her such a horrified look when she had answered the door.

She was really hoping that Otabek wouldn't notice that it was still really swollen, but as she came up the stairs to his booth he spotted her and his eyes widened ever so slightly. The change in expression was barely noticeable, but Yuri had become better at reading him over the past few months and could tell when his eyes darted down to her mouth that he hadn't just noticed that she was hurt, but that it bothered him. Probably more than it really bothered her, honestly.

“Hi, Beka,” she greeted him, attempting a smile, but it pulled on the cut in her mouth and made her grimace instead.

“I didn't see you around yesterday,” he said, his usual frown in place as he pretended he wasn't just staring at her lip in an accusing manner.

Yuri shrugged.

“Minako didn't think it would be a good idea that I entertain clients. She thought my face may frighten them away.”

Beka didn’t say anything, just gave a grunt that Yuri was pretty sure meant, ‘I want to ask what happened, but I'm afraid to know and don't want to be impolite in case you don't want to talk about it.’ Or something like that. Reading Otabek was something of an art that she had so far only dabbled in when she needed her fix.

“I tripped and bit right through my lip,” she offered, and when he looked skeptical, she continued with, “I swear, I'll never get used to walking in these stupid shoes. I miss my sneakers.”

He didn't look entirely convinced, but the subject didn't get pressed. She wasn't sure if he was upset by the implication of her being subjected to violence or that she was so obviously lying, but one thing she really liked about Otabek was that he was usually too polite to call her on her bullshit.

“Do you have something for me?” Yuri asked, attempting to change the subject.

Otabek nodded. 

“I thought I would throw in something new today. I think you'll like it.”

“Oh! What is it?” Yuri wondered aloud, her curiosity piqued.

“Ecstasy,” he said. “It makes sex feel amazing.”

“How amazing?” she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Otabek’s cheeks colored a little.

“I only did it once. It was the most incredible orgasm of my life,” he told her, his voice pitched low in embarrassment. “Although, our orgasms were always amazing together.”

Eyes strayed to the floor as he looked a little sad. Yuri had been thinking for awhile that Beka must have had his heart crushed by someone fairly recently, but this was a confirmation. She didn't know how any girl could do that to him -- she hadn't known him long, but she had realized quickly that despite the somewhat dangerous look and the leather jacket that seemed permanently affixed, he was a pretty sensitive person. Which made her wonder as well how he ended up working in this place.

Everyone here, save maybe Viktor and Chris, seemed to have some kind of sob story, even a lot of the errand boys. She didn't know what Beka’s backstory was, but she knew it couldn't be a happy one.

“Give me just a minute,” Otabek said to her as he turned away towards a backpack slouched on a chair.

“Yeah, okay,” Yuri said with a shrug, turning away to look out the glass of Otabek’s booth. 

It was still early yet and lot of the girls had yet to venture out of their rooms, the few that had milling around the floor or at the bar nursing their first drink of the day. Mila was already down there, her arm thrown around Sara and talking close to her ear. They both grinned at each other before they burst into laughter that floated up to Yuri’s ears. 

It made her feel a little lonely to watch them. She knew they were close, and it pained her a little to remember how alone she was without her grandpa.

Light broke across the semi-dark floor as the door to the outside opened and she watched as Chris followed an older man into the club, looking anxious, which looked wrong on his features.

“I want to see Vitya right now!” the man yelled, his voice hauntingly familiar. “Where is that little cocksucker?”

It wasn't until he turned around to glare at Chris that Yuri placed that voice, her whole body going stiff with fear.

_“You need to run, Yurochka,” her grandpa said, his eyes wide and scared._

_Her heart beat faster at that look. Grandpa never looked scared._

_“Run, and don't look back,” he said, his fingers bruising her arm as he gripped her, like he was afraid to let her go even as he urged her to leave._

_“I don't understand, Grandpa!” Yuri yelled. “Who are those men?”_

_The man smiled, but it was far from the kind smiles of her grandpa and the look in his eyes sent a shiver of fear through her long before she saw the gun in his hand._

_“You should have listened to your grandfather, little girl,” the man said, his voice like a trickle of ice water down her spine._

_“Leave her out of this,” her grandpa begged. “She's just an innocent child.”_

_The man tilted his head to regard her grandpa._

_“You know I can't do that, Nikolai,” he said calmly and cocked the gun in his hand._

_She could feel Grandpa’s fear now radiating off him, his breath labored as he stared up at the other man that was so familiar with him. She didn't know who he was, but the truth was, she didn't know much of anything about her grandfather before she was dumped on his doorstep, only that he was the father of the man she had never known, the man who had done unspeakable things to her mother -- the man who didn't want her. She had come to quickly love the doting old man who made her pirozhkis when she was feeling down, but the trust had come slower, because intellectually she knew her father's evil must have come from somewhere. But eventually that had come too, until she couldn't imagine her life without him._

_But there was obviously a history between these two men, and she was very quickly realizing that maybe her grandfather had once been the dangerous man she had expected._

_Someone grabbed her chin and turned her face towards them -- she hadn't noticed how close they had come until their hands were on her, she had been too preoccupied staring at the gun in the old man's hand to comprehend anything else -- he was ugly as fuck and his disposition was even uglier._

_“You're a pretty one, girlie. It's too bad,” he said, his breath hot and foul against her cheeks._

_She yanked her face away from his, focusing back on her grandpa who was staring up at the old man, eyes wide._

_“Yurochka, I love you,” he said softly, and there may have been more, but suddenly his body jerked as the old man pulled the trigger, the noise deafening in their small, modest living room._

_“Grandpa!” she screamed, and suddenly the hand on her arm was falling away, and she reached forward, trying to grab him before his body could hit the floor, but strong fingers were gripping her, pulling her away. She kicked and kicked, her whole body twisting as she tried to escape, but it was useless, her body was too weak, and theirs were so strong._

_“What should we do with the girl, boss?” one of the guys asked._

_The old man regarded them coolly._

_“I don't give a shit what you do -- just make sure she isn't going to be a problem.”_

_The threat hung there for a moment, just long enough for Yuri’s body to go numb with terror as the words settled over her. She could feel her face growing hot with tears and hopelessness, the strong smell of blood in the air making her gag -- and there was a sense of dread churning her stomach._

_They were going to kill her, just like that bastard did to Grandpa._

_She wasn't ready to die -- not yet._

_“No!” Yuri cried out, her voice cracking over the word._

_“Don't worry your pretty little head,” one of them said. “We ain't killing you yet.”_

_Another smirked at her and reached out to push her hair from her face, but the touch wasn't gentle, wasn't comforting and her skin crawled where his fingers touched._

_“We wanna have a little fun first.”_

_“When we're done with you, you'll be begging for death,” the third man said with a wicked grin._

_“Have a little respect for the dead, you idiots. Take it in the next room,” the old man scolded and Yuri took advantage of their distraction to kick one of them as hard as she could, but it was no use because the other two immediately grabbed her again, their fingers biting into her skin so hard she was sure they must be breaking her bones beneath._

_“You little fucking bitch!” one of them yelled and struck her across the face._

_The other one behind her, the one she hadn't nailed in the balls, just laughed in her ear, his voice hot against her skin._

_“I like it better when they struggle,” he told her, and carried her easily to the next room -- her bedroom._

_She struggled, but it didn't matter, because he wrestled her to the bed as if she were a feather, his grin wide as he held her down, fingers fumbling for the button on her jeans._

_“Keep cryin’,” he told her, “I love it when they cry.”_

_She kicked her legs violently as he ripped her pants and underwear down her thighs, her body twisting and turning under him, but it was pointless when the guy she kicked in the nuts came to take hold of her legs._

_“Virgins are my favorite,” he told her with a smirk as he helped remove her pants. “They're so tight, and they bleed so pretty when you fuck them.”_

_She squeezed her eyes shut as he spread her legs and the first man settled easily between them and then suddenly, there was pain, so much pain like she was being torn slowly in half and a sob escaped her lips --_

“Yuri!” 

There were strong arms around her, holding her still, and she felt so claustrophobic, her mind still reliving that memory, still feeling their hands on her.

“Yuri!” someone shouted again, and something in her brain clicked into place at the sound of the voice, at the familiarity of it.

“Yuri! Calm down,” the voice said again, and this time Yuri stopped struggling against the arms that held her, her hands falling to her sides like dead weights as her energy drained from her. 

“It's alright,” the voice said, softly against her ear as she was rocked a little in soothing motions, and now she was beginning to come back to herself, her mind supplying a name to the voice: Otabek.

“I've got you,” he whispered.

Her face was hot and wet; she hadn't cried since that day, and shame was rolling through her as she tried to stop the tears. But they wouldn't stop.

“You're safe,” he said gently. 

She forced her body to move and turn around in his arms so she could cling to him.

“I'm okay now,” she tried to tell him, but she choked on her words, the syllables lost in the sobs that wracked her body.

There were soft lips falling against her forehead before she was tucked under his chin, his large hands rubbing circles on her back. It took a few more minutes before she could speak, and when she lifted her head from his shoulder she could see her tears where they clung to the leather of his jacket, staining it dark.

“Who is that man?” she asked softly, her voice weak even to her own ears.

Otabek looked concerned, fingers flicking away the tears lingering in her lashes.

“Yakov Feltsman,” he said, and it looked like he wanted to add more, but he stopped himself.

“Have you seen him before?” he asked after a long minute, his hand cupping her cheek. She raised her own hand to grip his, comfort flowing through her at the feeling of his hand in hers.

“He's the man who murdered my grandpa,” she said quietly, and there was the briefest flash of _something_ across his features before he pulled her back into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has been started but may take awhile. Sorry.


End file.
